This conviction did not detract from my estimate of the importance of the spiritual, or of the individual. I still regarded the spiritual part of a man as his most essential part. It was still plain that we have to deal with men as individuals, but I recognized them also in their organic relation to the whole life of the community. Not only were the men’s souls to be saved, but the men themselves were to be saved. Not only were the men to be saved and lifted up to a better life, but the whole community was to be saved, and the community life was to be uplifted and placed on a higher plane.
Out of these convictions, which grew more and more positive, came the vision whose fulfilment is the subject of this story.
III
HOW THE VISION CAME
The genesis of a vision is always interesting, though often obscure. On one day a certain side of life is a blank. There is no outlook, no hint of the coming brightness. On another day that side of life is made all radiant and glorious by a vision, clear and definite, that beckons on to future achievement. Sometimes it comes suddenly, like Peter’s vision when he was upon the housetop in Joppa; and sometimes it dawns gradually, and little by little paints itself in beautiful colors upon the sky of one’s inner consciousness. As remarked in a previous chapter, a conviction is the egg from which the vision comes; but the egg is only dead and formless matter until it is brooded over and warmed into life. So a conviction may be strong and positive, but it may exist for a long time, formless, lifeless, and useless, until it is quickened into vitality by the brooding spirit of a man, and thus becomes an active and inspiring force. So it may be profitable and necessary to the proper understanding of this story to tell how the vision came.
For fifteen years I had been working away in my country parish. They had been happy years of glad, harmonious work. I was satisfied with my job. Though remote from the great centers of population, in a small village, and with people of very modest means, that restless feeling that spoils the peace and mars the work of so many ministers had been absent. My people were of the strong and sturdy sort, faithful and appreciative beyond many, ready to coöperate in carrying out any plans of work that the pastor might propose. They were splendid followers, responding quickly to all my suggestions. There was a good understanding between myself and the people.
I was called to pass through deep affliction. My home was broken up by a sudden stroke and I was left alone. Into the dark valley of sorrow my people accompanied me as far as they were able to go, and the effect seemed to be to unite us with bonds that were very strong and tender. Every home in all the parish was mine. All the children belonged to me. There was a chair for me at every fireside and a plate at every table.
But as the years went by there came some tempting opportunities to engage in work elsewhere. I was not without my ambitions and aspirations. I wanted to fill out the full measure of my ability and do my best work. And when some opportunities came that made the little country parish seem by comparison rather small and meager, I was not altogether proof against them. To become assistant pastor in a famous church in a large city—to take up the work of general missionary for a whole state seemed to promise fields of usefulness so rich and large that they made a strong appeal to the best there was in me, and perhaps also to the worst. I spent some weeks and months in considering these propositions and finally turned them down. I could not bring myself to sever my connection with those to whom I had been so long and so closely related. The personal tie was too strong and I decided to remain with my people.